Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apoc
by Shadow Zee
Summary: Sophia is dead. Walkers are on the prowl. The group is torn, but there is always hope. Daryl/OC. Second part of Season Two of "TWD". Rated T for language and sensuality. Third part of the "Necessary Nouns" story-verse.
1. Introduction

It's back! _The Walking Dead_ premiered a couple of nights ago and the episode was, as completely expected, amazing. I mean, wow! For anyone who hasn't seen the latest episode yet, this intro chapter won't spoil anything, but you should watch it before you read the next chapter, which I'm currently working on.

That brings me to the next order of business! My goal is to be able to upload a new chapter every week to keep myself from falling behind, but since school has started back up again, my time will be limited. I will try my best to keep to my goal, though!

Now, sorry for the shortness of this thing, but it's just an intro. Chapter 1 will be up later this week. So carry on, read, comment, whatever floats your boat!

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything having to do with _The Walking Dead_.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Introduction

It should have been a dream. That's what we all wanted. To wake up in our respective beds with soft blankets pulled up to our shoulders and sunlight pouring in through our respective windows.

Kie should have been curled up at my feet beneath the sheets, a goofy habit that she never grew out of as a kitten. Mom and Jack should have been bantering in the kitchen about what kind of cake would be made for dessert that night in celebration of the Navy man's return. Alas, no, that's not how it went. Kie is gone, surely. I hope she was able to escape the house back in Atlanta and fend for herself, but there's no way to know for certain if she is still alive. As for the rest of my family, you already know that half of the story.

I shouldn't be where I am now.

None of us should be. Funny how life always has a way to kick you while you're down. As if an apocalypse wasn't bad enough, our group is splitting at the seams, torn by the single bullet that ended all hope for Sophia. It had to be done, of course. No one will tell you otherwise, but it has struck a heavy blow. She had been right under our noses all the time, locked away in a shed, snarling and clawing with the rest of the walkers. And that realization is painful.

But what's worse is that none of this will get better. None of it. This isn't a bad dream that we'll all snap out of at any moment. Our respective beds have become tent-covered floors in the grass situated in the out skirts of Hershel's ranch. And we have no windows. Just the open sky above our heads, which is nice when the sun is high or the stars are bright. But our homes are gone, replaced with hungry undead things.

Now all we have is each other. A sad group of survivors to fight for our lives and make sure humanity remains on this lonely planet. But hey, each other is enough for me. Hell, Daryl alone would do the trick. It's certainly beats deer-hunting solo in the middle of butt-fucking Egypt.

We may never wake up from this nightmare, but at least we're suffering through it together. It's the least I can be grateful for.

* * *

><p>Apologies for the shortness, but it's just to get this ball rolling. I'm going to attempt to change a few things about the story, like points of view and the like. Just little things. Fear not! I'm not doing an overhaul on this thing. I'm just gonna clean it up a bit and try to make it not so monotonous. Now, go forth and review!...Please?<p> 


	2. A Bright Sun Means Darker Shadows

Well, as I'm sure you've all noticed by now, my attempt at keeping my goal of uploading a chapter a week failed miserably. No amount of apologizing can make up for that, but I will still say that I am terribly sorry! My Internet modem wasn't working for the last week and a half and so I was left to writing by hand in a notebook. That was time-consuming and with school, it was very difficult. Luckily, my Internet is back and I was able to get out this blip of a chapter to you guys! I wish it was twice this length, but again, my schedule is cramped. I'm really trying my hardest, though!

So like I said, I wanted to try experimenting with new things for this story, so I started by changing the point of view. It's always been through Marlie's eyes and will continue to be, but now I've written this chapter as though she's thinking and hearing everything personally. Once you read it, you'll know what I mean. Lemme know if this works nicely or if I should go back to writing in my old style.

As always, your comments, favorites, suggestions, etc are greatly appreciated! Again, I apologize for the HUGE delay and hope you guys don't wanna kill me!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _The Walking Dead_. Never have, never will.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter One: A Bright Sun Means Darker Shadows

"Don't look. Don't look!"

In the back of my mind, I could hear Daryl and Carol, their feet scuffling across the dry dirt of the Georgian ground. I knew he was trying to turn her away from the lifeless form of her daughter, which lay sprawled out before a shaking Rick.

His finger was still on the trigger of his Colt Python. I doubt even remembered how to remove it; the look on his face suggested that he was too shocked to even care.

And I stood motionless in the hot sun, sweat beading on my forehead and tickling my skin as it rolled down. Should I chase after Carol, who had just shoved Daryl aside and was now hurrying off on her own? Or would it be better to approach the hunter instead? Did Carl need comforting? Of course he did, but he was in his mother's arms, so I didn't think I was necessary. I shocked myself by wondering these things, because I wasn't at all trying to reassure my own self; rather, I was focused on figuring out how to make everyone else feel better in this hellish situation. Maybe, for now, I shouldn't do that. I could feel myself hurting just like the rest of the group.

Except maybe Shane. He wasn't human anymore. He'd lost that title when he horrifically put down the first walker that Rick and Hershel had brought back to the farm on dog-catching poles. Granted, it was for the best, but something in Shane snapped and I couldn't look at him as part of the group, especially not after he raised an axe to the barn doors. No, Shane had become something far worse than any mindless walker. He'd become heartless and cold and deadly.

I was more afraid of him now than the walkers.

As we all stood before the barn, baking in the sun and sorrowful, Beth, Hershel's gentle blonde daughter, hurried past Rick towards the many bodies of the undead. She sobbed and hiccuped, searching desperately for whom I could only assume was her mother. She found her half-buried beneath one of the carcasses.

From a distance, I observed as Beth rolled over the older woman, whose grey face had been partially torn off, revealing bloody teeth set in exposed jaw bones. My heart sank further than it had before, because I knew what it was like to lose family.

But something was wrong. I noticed a slight twitch of the dead woman's arm and for a moment, I wondered if it was merely a spasm of muscles, something I'd seen with squished insects and spiders. It was like the brain was dead, but the rest of the body lingered momentarily with the living. However, that's not what was happening.

Beth's mother, Hershel's wife, was not quite as dead as we had all assumed. One moment, she was just another body among the rest. The next, the older woman was snarling and clawing at the thing closest to it: Beth. She screamed in obvious surprise as grimy hands reached out to her face, hair, clothes.

It was enough to shake me of my stillness. I lurched forward with as much speed as my shaky legs could muster, closely followed by the rest of the group.

Glenn and Hershel wrapped their arms around the terrified woman, trying to pry her free from a once-familiar member of the family. Meanwhile, my hunter's knife was unsheathed in an instant, the warm metal comforting me as I squeezed through the mass of people now trying to defend Beth. T-Dog had begun to ram his heavy foot down onto the creatures head, but still, it growled hungrily.

Instincts from previous walker encounters kicked in and my shakiness disappeared as I kneeled between T-Dog and the walker, plunging the long blade through the swollen eye of the undead mother at my feet. Then I saw what I had done. It killed a small part of me to see the dead woman there. I had never met the woman and certainly never would, but it still hurt. Would I have done that to my own mother if the need had ever arisen? Not that it would have since she'd been eaten before ever getting the chance to turn into an undead. The thought alone brought bile up my throat. I barely managed to weasel away from the crowding bunch around me before I released the contents of my stomach in the dry grass several feet away.

Daryl, who had momentarily fled in Carol's direction, had given up his hope of reasoning with the older woman to return, so he found his place beside me.

I could only imagine how terrible I looked, bent over, head between my knees, shaking again. But the warm hand on my back was soothing enough to settle my stomach back down. I doubted I'd be eating anything for a long while, but at least the sickening sensation of vomiting had passed.

"Come on," the hunter said quietly, gripping my arm and leading me away from the foul pile of motionless undead.

Obediently, I rose to my full height and followed alongside Daryl as we made our way over to join the rest of the departing group who was on approach towards the house.

"We've been out combin' these woods lookin' for her and she's been here the whole time?" questioned Shane harshly, hurrying after a depressed Hershel. "You knew!"

"Shane, stop!" warned Rick in an attempt to defuse the obviously very pissed off man.

Like always, Shane shrugged off his partner and continued pointing fingers. "You knew, and you kept it from us."

Maggie waved a hand at him. "We didn't know!"

"Bullshit! Why was she in there?"

Hershel spun around, leaving his daughter Beth in the caring arms of Patricia, who quickly brought the young woman inside. "Odis brought them into the barn. He must have found her and put her in there before he was killed."

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" spat Shane, dissatisfied with Hershel's response.

The old man simply shook his head. "I don't care what you believe."

Shane smirked, something I always notice he does when he's about to get physically violent. "Alright, lemme tell you somethin'."

I would have intervened, having lost all patience for the man, if Maggie hadn't stepped forward and connected her petite hand to Shane's cheek. The sound of skin clapping against skin resonated in my ears and hung in the air for a moment.

"Stop it!" Maggie yelled, and my level of respect for the woman increased ten-fold. "Haven't you done enough?"

The look on Shane's reddening face said it all and I perked a brow at the situation that had just taken place.

Before stepping into his house, Hershel turned back towards the rest of us still standing in awe outside and said assertively, "I mean it. Off my land." He disappeared into the house then, leaving a sinking feeling in my gut and everyone else's, as I could imagine.

Daryl placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. It felt like a goodbye gesture to me and I turned to him with a questioning glance.

"You stay here and keep an eye on everyone."

I frowned, leading the hunter away from Rick and Shane who were having an intense staring battle. Once I figured we'd have a moment of peace, I demanded, "Where are you going?"

"I just need some time to myself."

"Bullshit. After what just happened back there, we all need to stick together. We need to help Hershel with his daughter and—"

Daryl shook his head. "Didn't ya hear? He doesn't want our help. Just, hang here for a while. I'll be back."

But something in his voice disturbed me and I didn't believe him for a moment. "What's gonna keep me from following you?"

"Nothing, but all I'm askin' for is some time alone. Alright?"

The urge to backhand the man was great, but we'd all been through enough pain already and anyway, a slap probably wouldn't have changed his mind. So I sighed instead, completely unhappy at the moment. "Whatever," I stated, my tone thick with disapproval.

In an effort to keep me optimistic, Daryl leaned in and planted a small kiss on my forehead. I was too angry with him, however, to really appreciate it. If he thought that a kiss would make me forget that he was leaving me alone with a bunch of tensed survivors, then he was sorely mistaken. "I'll be looking for you before the day's done. So unless you want me searching through town or something, you better not go too far."

Daryl nodded at my threat. I prayed he didn't think I was joking, because I sure as hell was not. As he walked away, my heart sank deeply into my now empty stomach, leaving me to do nothing but take my mind of him by tending to Beth inside the house. As I walked up the porch steps, taking the time to aggressively bump past Shane's shoulder, Rick called out to me.

"Where's Daryl goin'?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Maybe my tone was laced too thickly with venom and impatience, but it certainly did the trick of keeping the two officers of the law from asking any further questions.

Inside, Andrea, Patricia, Maggie, Glenn, and Hershel were circled around a shaking Beth, who they'd set at the kitchen table. A glass of water was in her hands, but as far I could tell, she made no attempt to drink it. She was still sobbing and each tear was just another memory of my own lost mom.

"Let's get her into bed," advised Hershel quietly, at the moment, not minding help from the people he was currently kicking off his property.

Beth went silently into the guest bedroom, Andrea gripping one elbow while Maggie took the other as they guided her onto the firm mattress. A single blanket was pulled up to her chest before Hershel instructed everyone but Maggie and Patricia to leave. Glenn remained, as well.

But Andrea and I didn't have to be told twice.

"What happened to Daryl?" Andrea asked beside me as we headed back out towards the barn. There was still the unspoken task of taking care of the dead to tend to.

I frowned, hating that question more than the walkers themselves. "Don't know. He said he needed some time alone and then just…left. I don't know where."

"And you didn't follow him?"

I couldn't tell if the blonde woman was being rude or just curious, but it left me feeling sour anyway. "No. Daryl can take care of Daryl. I wasn't in the mood to fight with him."

Andrea nodded and left it at that, proving to me that she hadn't been trying to sound offensive. She just had wanted to know why my other half wasn't glued to my hip like was normal these days.

We finished our journey to the barn in silence. What we were going to do about the dead was uncertain; we'd wait for Rick and the others to help us decide, but for the time being, we simply paid our respects. I was surprised to find that Lori and Carl were still sitting in the dirt, right where they'd been the whole time. I nodded at Lori and patted Carl's oversized deputy's hat as I passed.

Overhead, grey clouds blew in swiftly, shaking the trees and rattling the windmill at the other end of the ranch. The breeze was cool and offered a little bit of comfort against the high temperatures of midday. It also helped to lessen the acrid stench of decaying flesh.

I eyed the small body of Sophia as I walked past her towards the barn. My eyes watered from the burn of dead things, but my search was a simple one. Luckily, I found what I was looking for in record time and hurried back out into fresher air, a grey, fleece blanket hanging in my arms. I kindly handed a corner to Andrea. She took it slowly and together, we spread the blanket out and rested it over Sophia. "I think there should be a service."

Andrea said nothing, but gave a curt nod in agreement

The men of the group, aside from Glenn who was back in the house with Maggie and Daryl who was out god-knew-where, accompanied Andrea and I a short time later.

T-Dog scanned the corpses before meeting eyes with Rick. "Shouldn't we bury them?"

"We should have a service," suggested Andrea, glancing over at me.

"It's what Carol would want," I finished quietly.

Lori stood up and nodded, but her shoulders were slumped in exhaustion. "We'll bury Sophia, and Annett, and Shawn," she said, hesitantly speaking the names of the dead members of Hershel's family, as well as Carol's own lost little girl. It was hard to even hear those names without getting emotional. "Over by those tree. And we'll need a truck to move the bodies."

I was glad when Shane volunteered to go retrieve the truck, because that meant I wouldn't have to look at his inhuman face or hear his poisonous voice.

Jimmy, Beth's young boyfriend, made his voice known then, making it one of the few times I'd ever heard him speak. "What about the rest of the bodies? That's a lot of digging."

No kidding! I wanted to say. With Daryl temporarily out of the picture, that put a lot more work load on everyone else without his muscles to help dig the graves. Not that I would have minded digging, though.

"We'll bury the ones we love," suggested Andrea, taking leadership in the decision-making. It was another reason that I was glad we had made up. We would have destroyed each other as enemies, but after exchanging fists many days ago, we were nothing less than friends.

I revealed my voice then, adding, "And burn the rest." A simple solution and one that would eliminate the need for a mass grave.

Lori, with her hands on her waist and a tired look in her eye that I'm sure everyone carried at that moment, announced with an assertive voice, "Let's get to work."

I thought of the task ahead of me and suddenly, I regretted not chasing after Daryl. I could have really used his company.

* * *

><p>So there ye be! Tell me what you think of the slight change in writing style, as well as any other comments you may have. The rest of this one will be up as soon as I can write it. Just please be patient! That's all I beg of you! Thanks and I look forward to your reviews!<p> 


	3. No Fate But What We Make

Another chapter for everyone's enjoyment! I've continued to write directly from Marlie's point of view because I like this way a little more. But feel free to share your comments about that or anything pertaining to the story!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own TWD, so please, no lawsuits. I would frown upon it.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Two: No Fate But What We Make

At long last, the graves were dug. Three hollow pits for three hollow bodies.

I found my way to the RV once Lori gave me the go-ahead to retrieve Carol. To my surprise, Daryl was sitting on the counter within, quiet and guarded with his crossbow resting on his lap. In a way, I was glad to see him, but I was still upset that he had left me to dig the graves alone. Well, Andrea and T-Dog and a couple of others from our group were there, too, but I wanted Daryl with me. Something about his silent stance and tough-guy aura kept me feeling safe and warm.

However, the hunter was keeping watch over a sad-stricken Carol. I couldn't be angry about that.

Clearing my throat to get their attentions as I entered the RV, I said solemnly, "We're ready." It was an open statement because I didn't want just Carol to come; Daryl needed to be there, too.

After a long few seconds of awkward quietness, Carol replied, "Why?"

"Because that's your daughter." Daryl was stern as he spoke, obviously quite unhappy that Carol had apparently given up on everything. It could be seen in the way her shoulders fell joylessly, or the way her dim eyes should no emotion. She was a robot, made cold and without reason to live when her precious daughter died.

The older woman turned towards Daryl, lifting her gaze to reach his. "That _thing_ is not my daughter."

Something pulled painfully inside my heart then. Something I felt when I recalled my mother, dead and cold and hunched over in the front seat of our car what seemed like an eternity ago.

"My Sophia was alone in the woods all this time, I thought." Her eyes had returned to their place of staring out the small RV window, seeing nothing. "She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."

There was no point in reasoning with Carol because, despite not wanting to admit it, the woman was right. Sophia had run off into the woods, but she never came out of them. Who knew exactly when she turned? Was it the same day? That night? Had she become the thing most feared by us when Daryl and I had searched for her out in the woods together? Or was she still Sophia then? It didn't matter. She wasn't that little girl anymore. Hell, she wasn't even a walker anymore.

Sophia had ceased to exist.

With heavy shoulders, I backed out of the RV and slowly wandered away, absentmindedly rubbing the long scars up my wrists. Behind me, I could hear the weighted footsteps of Daryl as he stalked out as well. A familiar body pressed against mine shortly afterwards and I leaned into it, sighing softly and trying to contain the sadness seeping into my hollow bones.

There was a service, just as I had suggested. A few brown patches in the dry grass marked where the bodies had been laid. Hershel spoke a few words that didn't seem to carry very far into the thick atmosphere of the group's sadness. And Carol was nowhere in sight. I couldn't say I was surprised.

After a moment of silence, a time that I took to ask whoever was up there for forgiveness for everything bad I had ever done and to beg that the souls of the dead were put to rest peacefully, we all dispersed. No one wanted to linger more than they had to and no one did.

Not unexpectedly, Daryl wandered out of sight again, leaving the rest of us to clean up the other rotting walkers. I would have trailed after him had I not already told Andrea that I'd assist. It felt like a duty that I had to partake in. An unspoken responsibility given to everyone the day we were welcomed onto Hershel's ranch. We weren't welcome anymore, but the responsibility to clean up our mess was still there.

I helped Andrea carry a lifeless walker towards the sky blue truck that Shane had driven to us. We tossed the smelling corpse onto the pile that we had made, with help from T-Dog. Once it was thrown in, I wiped my hands frantically on the back pockets of my jeans, trying to remove the last bits of walker blood from my fingers. I'd be washing that shit off all week.

"Well, it's a good thing there weren't anymore," Andrea commented, motioning towards the undead pile. "Otherwise, we would have been overrun."

She was looking at me, but I could hardly hear her. My mind was elsewhere as I scanned the cloudy ranch for any signs of Daryl, or Carol for that matter.

"Yeah, and it's a good thing Shane did what he did _when_ he did."

Okay, that caught my attention. I spun around to face T-Dog, who had made the comment. My brows furrowed in disgust at his words.

"You aren't saying that what Shane did was right, are you?" asked Dale, who had accompanied Andrea and I as we loaded the truck.

"It wasn't," asserted Rick, finding his way over to our small group. "It'll cost us with Hershel."

"He's grieving. He'll come around. It had to be done. Look, I shot at them, too. This wasn't all Shane." Andrea's hands went to her hips as she spoke. She was right, of course. Letting free those walkers had probably been the better choice, but that didn't excuse Shane for going whack-job crazy in front of Hershel like that.

I didn't give a rat's ass if Andrea or anyone else had assisted in killing the geeks. Something horrible had clicked in Shane.

"I'm not saying that what we did was wrong, but creating a panic—"

"There's no point in arguing about it." I inwardly cursed myself for not having a stronger voice at that moment. "What's done is done."

Lori, standing beside the truck with her arms folded, nodded and said, "Marlie's right. There's nothing we can do about it."

And for the second time that day, we disseminated. I half-smiled at Dale before leaving him, heading in the opposite direction of the truck that carried Shane, Andrea, and a whole lot of filthy geeks. I stepped into the large, white house, following behind Lori as she led me to Beth's room. I was shocked when I saw her condition.

Frozen, eyes wide, unmoving.

I'd seen this before, back during my short stay in the woods on the outskirts of Atlanta, before Daryl found me. For the first time since I'd been on the move, I stumbled upon a man and woman who were barely out of the city. I offered to take them with me to wherever I decided to go, despite knowing how much more difficult it would be with two more people. But I couldn't simply leave them near a city full of undead things.

However, there was something wrong with the woman. She hadn't been bitten or scratched, but something was wrong. Her husband had tearfully informed me that their two young children had been killed before they could get out of Atlanta and now, a switch in his wife's brain had simply been flicked. He had practically carried her to where I found them on a deserted street just past the city limits.

It was going to be damn near impossible to defend a broken-hearted man and his catatonic wife, especially since I still had to find a vehicle to travel in. I couldn't just tell them sorry and leave, however; I was still human, not a bitch creature that said no to helpless people such as this couple.

In the end, though, I didn't have to choose to save them. Fate did that for me before I could manage to get them off the street. Three walkers found us and, try as I did, the man would not leave his wife's side. There was a sort of acceptance in his eyes as he made the final decision to stay, leaving me no other option besides running. So that's what I did, leaving the man and his near-comatose wife on the Atlanta street to be erased from this world as parts of them slid down the throats of walkers.

While Beth didn't have to be up and running from corpses at the moment, catatonic shock was still a serious health problem. Not fatal, normally, but bad nonetheless, especially since Beth refused to eat or drink anything. She needed Hershel, but he was nowhere to be found.

TWDTWDTWD

Daryl wasn't too hard to seek out, however; I simply looked in the most far-reached, lonely place on the ranch. It was a small area of green grass beneath the shade of a tall sugar maple, over a mile from the house. He was leaned up against a pointless brick wall that went up only about five feet.

"Daryl!" I called out to him as I approached, happy that I was able to find him, but angry that he was so distant from everyone. When he refused to acknowledge me, I sighed loudly. "Hey, wake up. Beth's in some sort of shock and we need Hershel."

"I ain't sleepin'," he stated matter-of-factly.

I rolled my eyes as I kneeled before him. "Ha-ha. I'm serious, Daryl. Rick drove into to town to get Hershel and Lori sent me to see if you'll go bring them both back."

"Why doesn't she go do it herself?"

"Because," I snapped, "she's busy taking care of Beth. And she's not the only one asking."

Daryl lifted his gaze up from the stick he was casually carving out with his blade. And he wondered why the damn thing was so dull! Next time he asked to use my own knife, I'd laugh in his face.

"Please, Daryl. Lori and I can't go out there alone. We need you with us."

He scoffed. "Since when can't you women take care of yourself? You of all people should be pretty alright with that."

I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or pissed off at the comment, so I decided to be pissed off. "Daryl," I said more sternly, catching his attention again.

"The bitch went window shoppin'. I got better things to do."

I flinched at the offensive comment. "Oh yeah? Like carving a fucking twig?"

He stood up in a blur of speed, taking me by surprise as I nearly took a step back, but thought better of showing such weakness. Daryl's face went into a twist of impatience and anger that turned his attractive, sun-beaten face into a terrifying grimace. He pointed his knife at me, waving it around as he spat venomous words. "We were out there every day lookin' for that little girl. Every day! I took an arrow and a bullet and we almost _died! _So you know what, Marlie? If she wants those two back so badly, then she can have a nice ride. I'm done lookin' for people." He lowered his knife and prepared to sit back down.

But my hand was up and connecting to his right cheek before either of us knew what was happening. Instantly, I felt terrible. I'd never smacked anyone in my life. Maybe a couple of playful taps on my brother Jack's face when we wrestled, but never anything real. Never anything like this. I suddenly remembered how much my parents used to fight back when we lived in Detroit, before their divorce. The sickening sound of a hand palm connecting to the flesh of someone's cheek had always made me flinch. There were just some things in the world that I could never get used to hearing.

And now I'd been the one to cause the noise and on Daryl, no less. My steady gaze into his bluish eyes fell onto the ground at his feet. I flinched when a slight breeze blew over my face; I was waiting for Daryl's own hand to clap against me. I deserved it. No matter how hard I tried to put on a stern face, a face lacking of fear and apologies, I simply couldn't do it. There were tears in my eyes as I spun around to leave.

A hand, however, took my wrist and yanked me back. As I turned to find Daryl right there, my free hand flew up instinctually to cover my face, but I quickly lowered it, feeling foolish for being so afraid of the man that I loved. But I wondered if I _should _be afraid. He was staring at me with a fiery rage built up in his eyes. I waited for him to unleash it onto me, but once several moments passed and not so much as a flick of his wrist occurred, I relaxed a little in his grasp. "I'm sorry," I whispered shakily, small teardrops dripping down my cheek. "I…I didn't—"

Daryl dropped his knife then and pulled me into him.

The embrace was warm and I could smell the brick that had rubbed off onto his dirty clothes from the pointless wall he had been leaning against. I was utterly stunned by the hug, having been expecting something a lot less kind in return for the red hand print now traced along Daryl's cheek. But no, he just held me tighter to him.

I rested one side of my face against his chest and dragged in a long, shaky breath as he placed his chin onto of my sloppy curls. I felt one hand wrap comfortingly around my back; the other stroking my hair gently. Why he wasn't furious was beyond me. I wondered if slapping him had been the right thing to do, even though I had instantly regretted it. Daryl seemed alright then, as thought I'd smacked some sense back into him. But still, the noise it had made, the shocked look on Daryl's face. It was a horrible sight to see and my face burned in shamefulness.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl," I muttered into the fabric of his shirt, sobbing quietly there and praying that he didn't mind my pitifulness.

He loosened his grip on me and took a step back then to look me in the eyes.

As much as I wanted to turn away, I felt that the need to do so was lessening with each passing second. So I sighed heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks and sniffling loudly.

The man remained silent. However, he leaned into me and gave me a gentle peck on my forehead, the second one that day.

The place where his lips touched my skin burned with delight and I wished the world hadn't ended and Beth was awake and fine and everyone was happy, because I really didn't want to part from Daryl. Of course, there were dishes to be done, laundry to tend to, people to protect. That's what a family did, after all.

"I think you're the first woman to ever smack me."

I looked up at him, my eyes red and tired. I had mixed emotions about the comment. Should I be even sadder at what I'd done, or should I laugh at my fearlessness for having done it?

Daryl smirked before kissing my head again. Reaching down for his blade, which stuck out from the ground where it had been dropped, he said, "Hope you're not gonna make a habit of it."

I frowned and shook my head. "I don't know what got into me."

"Some sense, that's what. Now as for Rick and Hershel, they're two grown men. They can take care of themselves. But I ain't goin' anywhere, so you best let Lori know that."

For a brief moment, I wanted to smack Daryl again. But then I recalled his stunned expression and wanted to never see that again. Hey, if he wanted to carve arrows out of twigs all day, that was his choice, but the rest of the group would most definitely frown upon it. I don't think Daryl cared, though, because he sat back down and picked up his stick again and began working.

I shook my head at him, but let the subject drop, crossing my arms in mild irritation. Then I asked, "So have you seen Carol?"

Daryl paused his work for a moment before resuming. "No."

"Hm," I mumbled quietly, wondering where the woman had run off to. Nonchalantly, I scanned the surrounding area, just hoping to catch a glimpse of Carol to prove that she was alright. However, I was distracted by a small meow close by. Curiously, I turned to find that the ranch cat that Daryl had seen several days ago had perched itself atop the brick wall and was now looking down playfully at him and I. I couldn't help but smile at it.

Daryl glanced up, brows furrowed. "Your cat's back."

"'S not my cat."

"You're the cat lady, aren't ya?"

I shook my head. "I had one cat once and that makes me the cat lady?" I thought about that for a moment before shrugging. Cats were nice, so being a cat lady couldn't be so bad.

Daryl simply grunted and leaned to the side to allow me to step up to the wall and grab the calico cat.

I expected it to leap away from my outstretched hands, but instead, its tail perked up and flicked slightly as I scooped it up into my arms. It purred against my chest and put a warm feeling inside my stomach. Cats made for good mood-boosters and I wanted to go bring her to the house to show Lori and Maggie and Beth. Maybe Beth would snap out of it if she was with the cat. Sometimes, animals had a way of making the impossible happen.

But the house was a long walk away and I had a feeling that the cat wouldn't have the patience to be held against the hot body of a person through the hot Georgian air with a full coat of fur. The little thing would suffocate, surely.

So I simply lowered myself down beside Daryl, sitting with my legs stretched out in front of me. My hand burned from slapping the hunter, but the pain vanished as my mind was distracted by the purring feline on my lap. She had her eyes closed as she sat there, pressing her orange-and-white face into my fingertips as I scratched her cheek.

Daryl snorted beside me, obviously amused with my new friend. "You the cat whisperer or somethin'?"

"Or something," I replied calmly. I didn't have any magical cat-calling powers and I doubted I had been a cat in a previous life. Maybe a bird or, well, maybe a cat. Okay, probably a cat. Between the enjoyment of solitude, the underlying love of affection, and the delight of having people to trust, I could have definitely been a cat once.

But cats didn't have the perfect life. Especially not the ones that lived on old farms in a world where grotesque, undead things wandered the woods in search of living meat to gorge themselves on. No, life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Not for anyone or anything, cats included.

We all make do, though.

In the distance, I watched as a fire was set to the many corpses piled in the grass, smoke billowing high as their rotting skin burned away into dust. It left me to sit beside Daryl and think to myself, "What a grand life we find ourselves living, where the walking dead are burned and the living look forward to the day that we finally die."

The calico mewed. It must have been wondering the same thing.

* * *

><p>KITTY! I'm a huge cat fan, so there you go. What did you guys think about the whole slapping-Daryl bit? I kinda surprised myself with it, but he sorta needed it. Comments, reviews, thoughts, favorites, EVERYTHING! Please?<p> 


	4. Beware, Lest You Grasp at Shadows

Warning, there be monsters in this chapter! Haha, but seriously, there are. Decomposing monsters, of course!

DISCLAIMER: _The Walking Dead_ does not belong to me!

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Three: Beware, Lest You Grasp at Shadows

They say that your life flashes when you know you're going to die. Memories, experiences, things you wished you had said or done flit across the vision of your third eye. It wasn't a myth or something made up by some guy who almost kicked the bucket. It was as real as the walker that had just crossed paths with our vehicle. As real as the shock of knowing that we were going to crash as a result. As real as the airbag that just deployed in my face and blackened my mind.

_A short time before_

I left Daryl and the calico cat to their own devices underneath the tall maple at the far end of Hershel's ranch. He wasn't going to go retrieve Rick and the others, so I stopped asking. At least I had managed to calm down his selfish nerves. It must have been that slap. He deserved it, of course.

My hand was still stinging when I finally made it to the house. I had planned on checking in on Beth, but Lori hurrying down the front porch steps with a revolver in her hand stole my attention. "Hey," I called out to her. "Where are you going?"

She hesitated, but continued walking towards the car parked in the long driveway.

When the older woman didn't respond, I had a pretty good idea of an answer. "Does anyone else know you're leaving?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way," she said as she swung open the car door and slid inside.

Before Lori could deny me, I was crawling into the passenger seat, buckling in before she could even raise a finger at me.

"Marlie, no. Get out."

I only nestled deeper into the seat. "Sorry Lori, but you're not going into town alone. It's dangerous and your husband would probably rip my head off if he knew that I had let you go by yourself."

She eyed me unhappily before sighing loudly, revealing her true disapproval for the sudden situation. She had lost this battle by a long shot and it didn't help her brighten her already dampened mood. Buckling in, Lori twisted the key in the ignition and we pulled out of the driveway to begin our secret journey to get Rick, Glenn, and Hershel back.

After a few miles of cruising through sunny green landscape, but with no town in sight, Lori asked, "Can you get the map for me, please, Marlie?"

"Yeah, where is it? Oh, nevermind. Found it," I said, answering my own question when I spotted the map on the middle backseat, just beneath the pistol Lori had been carrying before. I reached back for it and unfolded it partway on my lap. I was never the greatest map-reader, preferring to use my general sense of direction to guide me to where I needed to be. But a map was necessary now since neither of us knew how to get into town. "Alright, I don't even see where we are on the map."

Lori turned her gaze momentarily onto the map as I held it towards her. "We're here," she said, indicating a long stretch of back road with her index finger. "We need to be here."

"Oh," I said coolly. "Then we should be getting close."

Lori nodded and looked at the map a little longer, tracing roads with her eyes as she tried to figure out the best and quickest route to her husband.

I was trying to calculate the same thing. "We should be coming up to another road soon, so we'll have an idea of where we are exactly," I stated optimistically, lifting my gaze up from the map to scope out the next street. The first thing I saw was the walker ambling out from the woods to our right. "LORI!" I screamed, drawing in a harsh breath as I braced myself.

Lori's eyes darted to the road ahead and she gasped loudly, jerking the steering wheel with a powerful yank. She wasn't able to dodge the undead in the middle of the road, and instead hit it dead on. Its body smashed against the windshield, splintering it like a spider's web in front of me. It rolled along the top of the car before falling off behind us in a broken heap of flesh and bones.

We cried out in unison as the road disappeared from under the car's tires, replaced with green grass and dirt as Lori lost control.

I remember us hitting a mound in the ditch, which sent the car end over end until we were barrel-rolling along the deserted road. There was smoke, dust, and broken glass in face with every roll, and my seatbelt was gripping my chest painfully tight, limiting my breaths. I heard a loud hiss, like when a balloon rapidly loses air, and then the airbags appeared. I saw Daryl's face for a quick instant and then it was lights out.

_Present_

There was a scratching sound to my left. That was the first thing I noticed when I started to return to the waking world. The pain was the next thing—I could feel my seatbelt and my sheathed blade digging into my thigh—and finally, the strange sensation of dangling. This last interesting detail got me to open my eyes in confusion.

It was dark out, that was for sure. Somehow, daylight had been replaced with nighttime in only a short time, it seemed. Unless I was out cold for longer than I thought, which was probably the case.

Looking out the broken windshield, I couldn't see a damn thing, but I did notice that my vision was rotated about ninety degrees, which was a very odd thing. Then I realized that it wasn't very surprising, because the car was on its side. I was still buckled in—had I not been, I would have definitely been dead—and my arms hung limply down towards Lori, who was lying motionless against her door. "Lori," I mumbled, horrified that my voice was crackly and barely audible to my own ears.

The scratching continued and I attempted to shift in my seat to get a better look, but my body screamed out in protest. However long I'd been unconscious, it had been enough time for bruises to form and aches to make themselves known. "Lori," I tried again, reaching for the red button to my buckle. I wasn't exactly sure how I'd get down because once the belt was released, I'd fall right down onto Lori. I doubted she'd appreciate that.

But the first step in evaluating Lori's situation and figuring out where that damned scratching was coming from was to get out of my seat. Reaching up to the small handle that was placed above my window, I wrapped my fingers around it and held on tightly. Or at least, as tightly as I possibly could against the pain in my muscles. With my left hand, I pressed the belt release button firmly. It spit me out of the seat, but I held on tightly to the ceiling handle and carefully guided my feet to rest on either side of Lori, balancing myself by keeping one hand against the side-ways ceiling. "Lori," I said with a little more strength. But god, even speaking hurt. Blinking hurt, too, and so did making fists and turning my neck. I hoped Lori would be in better condition.

Something smelled like rot I soon realized as I began to nudge Lori's shoulder. And that scratching was more like clawing. My heart jumped into my throat, suddenly understanding the stench and noises and finally seeing the thing responsible.

"Lori, get up. Come on, wake up!" I asserted frantically, hearing the clawing grow louder as a moan erupted from the walker just outside. Its dark form was illuminated by the dim yellow headlights that were flashing a warning. "Lori!"

Her tired eyes opened and were immediately glued to the walker scraping and biting at the devastate windshield. She cried out.

"Come on," I urged. "We have to climb out!" Once I knew that Lori was fully awake and ready to move, I reached up and grabbed my door through the broken passenger side window. My fingers ached as I clenched down on the cool metal and tried hoisting myself up. It was difficult. I've never been a heavy person, but when you've just been in a relatively bad accident and everything you do is painful, your body weakens at the mere thought of trying to pull yourself over an obstacle. But Lori was stuck in the same bad place as me and her husband and son were out there. They needed her and I liked to think that Daryl needed me. That boosted my strength to some extent.

But not enough. Despite Lori beneath helping to get my legs off the ground, it wasn't enough. My sweating fingers slid off the door and I fell back. I cried out in fear that I might land on Lori, but luckily, she was just there to catch me. Unfortunately, I landed closer to the walker than I had really wanted to.

It clawed savagely at the glass, pushing its rotting face in through the hole that it had dug out. Flesh detached from its jaws, but it kept shoving itself forward, not at all caring that it was stripping itself of its own skin in the process.

Lori yanked my shoulder then, rolling me away from the walker. She switched places with me, bringing her own self near the snarling undead geek, and shouted, "Get the gun!", keeping the walker focused on her to give me time to locate the weapon.

I would have simply retrieved the knife from its sheath at my side, but as I reached instinctually down for it, I realized that it was gone. Probably detached itself from my jeans when I fell. Great. Was every weapon lost these days? I was never a fan of searching for things when under pressure. No matter what the situation was, I could never seem to find a damn thing when I was panicked and terrified. But I crawled into the backseat and began searching, only stopping when I heard Lori cry out.

The walker had managed to weasel its filthy hand through the windshield and was holding Lori's brunette hair in a death grip.

I gasped and crawled back over to her, bringing up my booted foot to clash into the geek's grotesque face where flesh pieces dangled by mere muscle threads. Repeatedly, I kicked at it, but it refused to relinquish its hold. My heart was racing so quickly that I feared it would give out before I could save Lori, but she apparently had the saving-Lori part already covered.

In an instant of cleverness and the overpowering urge to get the hell out of her current situation, Lori reached for the gear shift, pulling it free from its place in the steer wheel's neck and rammed it into the walker's right eye.

Immediately, the snarling and snapping ceased and the corpse became nothing more than that. Just a corpse.

I took that moment to catch my breath and mentally congratulate Lori for being so strong and determined. I would have formed words for her, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented me from doing anything more than deciding to get out of the car. I crawled back into the backseat, kicking wildly at the back window, since slipping through that would be easier than trying to hoist myself through my passenger window.

Lori squeezed in beside me and joined in the kicking fest that took place. Between the two of us, we made short work of the window, which broke apart and fell backwards onto the street. Then I crept out, careful to avoid kneeling in glass or cutting my hands, both of which happened anyway. Lori appeared after me, carrying something familiar in her hands.

I sighed with relief when I saw my sheathed blade. With a thank-you smile, I clipped it back through one of my jean's belt loops and removed the knife, grateful to be armed again.

We hadn't been free from the car for more than a few seconds before another walker staggered out from nowhere. It snuck up behind Lori and wrapped its decayed arms around her neck, snapping at her all the while. She spun around in shock and kicked a foot out, successfully knocking the thing onto the ground. But before Lori could get out of its reach, it hooked its fingers around her ankle and she joined it on the hard concrete.

Blade at the ready, I rushed passed Lori and stomped a foot down onto the walker's back. A sickening crack left me with the impression that I had just effectively broken the ugly's spine. As it attempted to crawl towards Lori, its legs dragging, I realized that I had been correct. I felt angry then, because I knew that if I wasn't there to stop it, the hideous monster would keep trying to get at Lori, not that she couldn't protect herself. But the drive to protect was strong inside me and I gladly brought down the long blade onto the walker's skull. A sound similar to the one made when someone stepped into a thick mud pile was heard as the knife plunged into brain matter.

I looked up to see that Lori had crawled part-way back into the car. When she came out, she held the revolver in her hand. A twinge of guilt struck me because I hadn't been able to find that damned gun when it was needed most, whereas Lori found it without a problem. Of course, there wasn't a walker to worry about at the moment, so relaxed nerves meant quicker ability to find shit.

"Let's go," Lori instructed quietly. "There could be more."

I didn't need to be reminded of that, but I nodded anyway and followed closely beside her as we trekked down the dark road, hoping to find something to point us in the right direction, whatever that direction was.

* * *

><p>Dundundun. And now I am off to continue writing because I am on a serious role! After the next chapter, I'm going to resume writing in third-person omniscient, as opposed the current first-person POV, which I've been using lately. Hope nobody minds, but I just prefer the other way, like my last stories. :P<p>

Well, anyway, review and receive a metaphoric cookie in appreciation!


	5. Be a Part of All Whom You Have Met

As I write this, I can hear my sister's bunny wreaking havoc in her bedroom, so I think, for the damn things own sake, I should probably go check on it before it chews through a cord or something that he'd regret. But in the meantime, enjoy what I have for everyone! And, like time, COOKIES for all those who review! Come on, who doesn't like cookies?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _The Walking Dead_. If I did, then Marlie would be in. :P

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Four: Be a Part of All Whom You Have Met

The street was long and straight and gave Lori and I a good view of the path in front of us. So far, we hadn't come across anymore walkers, but that certainly didn't mean there weren't any out there.

We had been lucky that the crash hadn't killed us. Sure, we had enough cuts, bumps, and bruises to last us a lifetime, but we were alive. No broken bones, either, as far as I could tell. My chest throbbed and breathing was uncomfortable, but I'd had bruised ribs before. Lori said that there was a lot of dried blood on my face from a laceration on my cheek and once-bloody nose. I thanked the airbag for that.

Meanwhile, Lori had a cut on her forehead that had cauterized sometime while she was unconscious. I bet it hurt like the Dickens and was probably giving her one hell of a headache, kind of like the one I was experiencing, but again, we were alive and in one piece. And we'd even managed to take out a couple of walkers despite our weakened states. I'd say we were doing a pretty good job of taking care of ourselves.

"Thank you," said the older woman quietly beside me as we continued walking.

No doubt she was thanking me for having her back. "You're welcome. Can you imagine if you had gone out here alone? Will you at least invite me next time?"

Lori smiled and nodded. "I most certainly will." But then she fell quiet and I could tell that she was thinking about Rick.

I really hoped that he was faring better than Lori and I were. I tried to think positively and said with hope, "You know, they might already be back at the ranch. Rick and the others."

Lori sighed at the thought. "I hope so," she whispered.

The spinning of tires alerted us both to the presence of a vehicle and I turned around to find that one of Hershel's many modes of transportation was approaching. A sense of calm overtook me because we'd been found by one of our own people and not some group of crazed guys looking for a good time. As disgusting as it was to think, walkers weren't the only bad guys out there.

As glad as I was to know that someone familiar was here, I frowned deeply when I saw Shane step out from the SUV. There was no doubt that the man knew how much I really didn't like him; I just hoped he wouldn't be an ass about it.

He rushed up to Lori and I, concern etched in his features. I'm sure he was more worried about Lori, but he did eye me with anxious regard, leaving me with the impression that he did care somewhat about my well-being, too. "You two alright?" he asked, shotgun in his hands.

"We're fine," assured Lori, but her voice betrayed her answer.

"You're not fine. I saw the wreck," Shane retorted unhappily. With a small flashlight in his hand, he clicked it on and shown its bright light into Lori's eyes and then mine.

I pulled back slightly against his touch, but otherwise let him check for signs of concussion.

"God," he muttered, seeing just how bloodied and beaten up we both were. After all, neither of us had anything to wipe away the crimson with, so we probably looked like we had just crawled out from the pits of hell. "What happened?"

Lori answered before I could, which was alright with me. "Looked down at the map and hit a walker."

Shane instantly glanced at me, as if wondering if the accident had been my fault.

I glared back and asked, "What?"

He ignored me and turned back to Lori, saying, "I gotta get your both back to the farm." He snatched up her arm and led her to the car.

But Lori shook him off. "No, we gotta find Rick."

"We came out all this way, Shane, and we're not leaving until we've found them." I eyed the man with mild irritation as I waited for a response.

Shane hesitated for a brief moment, as if wondering what to say. Sighing, the officer reassured us with, "He's back. They're all back. Everyone…everyone's safe and sound."

My eyes opened wide, as did Lori's at the best news we had both heard in a long while.

"Really?" asked Lori, hardly believing her ears.

Shane nodded. "Yeah. Now come on."

I couldn't prevent a grin from spreading on my face as I headed towards the vehicle beside Lori. Glancing up at her, I made sure she, too, had a smile of her own.

As the Hyundai pulled up to the house, it was greeted by the rest of group. Oddly enough, however, Rick and Glenn and Hershel were nowhere to be seen.

I searched the several familiar faces, just as Lori was doing, but couldn't find them. Then again, I was never very good at finding things so I was probably staring right at them and they just weren't registering in my brain.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" questioned Andrea, rushing up to Lori and I as we crawled out of the vehicle slowly.

Lori held a damp cloth to her forehead, thanks to a few supplies from inside the Hyundai, while my face was finally clear of crimson blood that would have surely made me look worse than I was.

"We were in an accident, but we're fine. Really, we're okay," assured Lori, tired and ready to be held by Rick.

"Where's Hershel?" I asked after taking one last look around, convincing myself that they were definitely not outside with us. Blank, solemn faces stared back at me as my brows furrowed. "They're not back?" On the corner of my eyes, I watched Shane slowly walking away. I was going to kill him.

Lori blinked and glared something terrible at Shane. "Where are they?" she demanded. For the moment, she was doing a really nice job of remaining calm and collected, but I could see her body beginning to shake angrily.

"I had to get you back here."

It wasn't enough justification, however. Not for me and not for Lori. While yes, we were in an accident and yes, getting back to safety to be looked at was important, but lying about Rick directly to Lori's face was low. That was her husband, for Christ's sake!

"Son of a bitch," I muttered lowly, shaking my head, but instantly regretting it as a migraine struck painfully behind my eyeballs. I turned away from Shane because merely looking at him was going to set me off.

That's what it did for Lori. "You asshole!" she spat, rushing the man while her fists were clenched. "You asshole! You _asshole!_"

"Lori, hey," tried Shane, holding his hands up defensively against the fists flying at him suddenly. "I'll go out there and I'll find him!" But Lori kept coming at him, rage in her pretty eyes. "Hey! I gotta look after you. I gotta make sure the baby's alright."

I blinked. Okay, that was news to me. And as I scanned the surrounding faces, it became apparent that it was news to everyone else, too.

"You're having a baby? Why didn't you tell me?" asked Carl, wearing his father's huge deputy's hat.

Lori's eyes were wide and her fists went down to her sides. Anger had been replaced with uncertainty. "I…I…" she stuttered, unsure of what to say now that her biggest secret had been exposed. Standing awkwardly, nervously, she stared at everyone. No doubt she was on fire with embarrassment.

But, not surprisingly, Dale intervened with a calm, caring tone. "Come on," he said, reaching out his hand towards Lori and expecting me to join him. "Let's make sure you're both alright."

I already knew I was fine, though. So I shook my head and said quietly, "I'm actually gonna go see Daryl."

Lori turned back to me, silently asking if I was sure that I didn't want to join her and the others inside. When she realized that I'd fine, she nodded at me, patting my shoulder comfortingly as I wondered past.

"He'll be back," I whispered to her. I wondered if I should congratulate her on her unborn child, but then thought better of it. Maybe Lori wasn't happy with the idea of being pregnant, so I didn't wish to bring it up when she was already struggling with the whole revealed truth already.

Before I could leave entirely, Shane shoved a flashlight in my hands before I could object. "Be careful," he stated sternly, but genuinely.

I simply growled and hurried past him.

Daryl wasn't where I had left him, much to my unhappiness. I hoped I hadn't travelled all that way just to realize that he had been back in the house all along. I shook my head at the silly thought. Somebody would have told me and besides, Daryl wouldn't be caught dead in the presence of the group now that he'd become a self-designated lone wolf.

I checked our tented camp next. It seemed so foreign to me now. All I did was sleep there. That was it, because when morning came, there were always chores to be done around the house or in the horse stables.

But that's where I found the hunter. He was leaned up against a tree, fiddling with his crossbow.

I shined my flashlight on his face to get his attention. "Still living way out in the boonies?" I asked, tiredly.

He smirked, but didn't look up. He obviously hadn't been aware of my leaving.

I stood there for a moment, waiting for some kind of response from the man, but when I received none, I said, "Alright, well, I'm going to bed. 'Night."

"It ain't even ten o'clock yet. What have you been doing all day?" Finally, Daryl looked up. His face fell in immediate concern and he jumped up from his spot beneath the tree. "What the hell happened?" he asked, grabbing my flashlight and revealing the painful marks on my face.

"Car accident," I droned. "Lori and I went to find Rick, but we hit a walker. Car flipped off the road."

He took my arm sternly then and led me into the nearby RV, where he proceeded to sit me down at the bench. While he retrieved the first aid kit beneath the kitchen sink, my eyes wandered over to Carol, who was silently staring out the back window.

"Hey, Carol," I greeted kindly. I thought I heard Daryl grunt, but I wasn't sure if my ears were merely playing tricks on me.

The older woman's gaze detached from the window and when she saw my face lit up in the RV's light, she stood up and joined me on the bench.

"Car accident," I said, not feeling like hearing the words "what happened" again.

Daryl rose then with the med kit in his hands and eyed Carol with a warning.

Okay, maybe I hadn't imagined his grunt earlier. Obviously, those two had some sort of falling out while I was away. An awkward silence fell between the three of us as Daryl removed a peroxide-soaked gauze pad and began to dab the cuts on my face. It burned but I simply watched Daryl. It was nice to see him again, especially when I feared that I wouldn't.

While he tended to the scrapes, Carol silently readied a cold, wet towel at the sink and handed it to me once she was finished. "For your nose," she breathed quietly.

I smiled a thanks and allowed Daryl to finish up his wound-cleaning before he finally packed up the kit and stared at me. "What?" I asked. Did I really look that bad?

His gaze fell onto Carol's then, anger flaring in his blue eyes.

"Okay, did I miss something?"

Daryl scoffed and turned to leave, but I snatched his forearm before her could go far. He really needed to learn how to go about confrontations a little more maturely, because running off when he was pissed was getting old.

"Sit," I ordered, feeling Carol grow restless beside me. "I'm not letting go until you do." My grip tightened.

After a few silent moments, Daryl rolled his eyes and sat his ass back down on the seat across from mine.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but this whole awkward-staring thing has to stop." I waited patiently for that to sink in between their ears, locking eyes with both of them to get my message across.

"I don't need to stick around for this—"

"Daryl," I stated sternly, honestly surprised when the man settled down and huffed. In a softer tone, I said, "You guys don't have to tell me what happened. It's none of my business, but it's hard enough having to put up with walkers. The last thing this group needs is tension between its own members." I suppose I should speak for myself, seen as how I've really had begun to hate Shane, but I'd deal with that hatred later. "Bad things happen," I said, glancing at Carol for a particularly long time. "But as a family, our job is to pick up the pieces. And that's what we are—a family. Okay?" I inhaled a long breath having surprised myself with this little speech. I had been a downer lately, ditching my positivity for a more antagonistic approach, but seeing Daryl and Carol killing each other with their stares was irking me. If any of us planned to make it through the next day, then we'd all have to put on a strong face and grow a little more patience for each other.

Carol sniffled beside me and I gently nudged her shoulder. "Okay?" I repeated quietly.

Daryl, who was looking down at his hands, crinkled his nose before finally nodding.

It was a breakthrough, I supposed. Daryl had admitted that I was right and acknowledged his and everyone else's faults in the process. I was unbelievably proud of him then. "Good," I said, half-smiling as I placed the cold rag on my throbbing, black-and-blue nose. "I'm going to bed now. Thanks, Carol, for this," I added, motioning towards the towel as she got out of the bench to allow me to leave.

"You're welcome," she replied calmly.

Daryl stood up too and followed me out of the RV.

I said goodnight to Carol before finding my way to the tent that I had been sharing with Daryl. He slid in after me and I watched him kindly as he sat at my side. I was glad that he hadn't stormed out of the RV while I spoke. It meant a lot to me.

"Family, huh?" he said, leaning into me.

I smiled. "Yeah. What else would we be?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think that you and I have passed the family stage." His hand crept up my arm and he brushed a calloused finger over one my many scratches.

"We're still family. Just a bit more intimate than some of the other members." I snorted at how ridiculous that sounded, but stuck to my statement anyway.

Daryl smirked and slid his hands down along my shirt, gripping the bottom of the plaid fabric—yet another shirt that Lori had let me borrow. He helped remove it from my bruised and battered torso, frowning when he saw the true extent of my injuries.

I looked down and saw the gruesome purple marks across my ribs and shoulder where my seatbelt had dug into me. Even seeing them made them hurt and breathing wasn't much fun, either. But Daryl leaned in and kissed the bruises anyway. I can't say it made them feel any better, but at least my mind was suddenly focused on the blossoming heat that his lips left behind.

He found my mouth a moment later and gently lowered me onto our sleeping bag bed, burning my lips with passion. There would definitely be no sex tonight, though, not with my body hurting enough already. Besides, we'd just run out of condoms a few days ago.

So Daryl held off, settling for kisses on the neck, cheek, eyes.

But eventually, I had to get to sleep. To gather my strength for the morning when Shane and probably Daryl, too, would go out and look for Rick.

Before either of us knew it, I had passed out against Daryl's warm body, my own body relaxed and content that it had found its place beside family.

* * *

><p>Don't cry, people. I'm working on another chapter now, but I'm taking a small break cuz the complete series of <em>Invader ZIM<em> was just delivered to my house. Oh, sweet alien, come to me! DO NOT DENY MY VEINS!

P.S...The bunny, luckily, didn't chew through any cords. He was just throwing a rage fit and kicking crap around and stomping. Just like a typical teenage human, actually. Kinda reminds me of my sister!


	6. Learn By What You Do

Finally, another update! Is that what you're all thinking? Sorry! I've been working on a dozen other fics and one shots for some personal stories and have little motivation to do much else. But I woke up this morning and told myself that I wasn't allowed to write anything before I updated this story. So, ta-da!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own TWD, blah blah blah! :P

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Philosophies to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Five: Learn By What You Do

Finally, there was good news.

Marlie woke to find that Glenn, Rick, and Hershel had all returned, much to everyone's relief. As expected, Rick was discomforted to hear that his wife and Marlie had gone off looking for him the day before and were almost eaten by walkers as a result.

But attention was taken away from that situation and placed on the man that was seated in the back seat of the truck that the men had arrived in. His name was Randall and he was just one more thing to add to the list of "Shit the Group Has to Deal With".

There was a discussion about what to do with the newcomer, who's injured leg had been stitched up and repaired—for the most part—by a helpful Hershel. As if the group didn't have enough crap to worry about…

"We couldn't just leave him there," stated Rick. "He would have died."

"And that would have been a problem _how?_" Shane was furious. Like always, he didn't agree with yet another one of Rick's decisions and he wasn't holding back his voice on this issue.

Marlie hung back beside Daryl, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall behind him. The headache from the night before had dissipated a little, but remained. And her nose was bruised and sore. She was grateful that she was alive, though. That always made her laugh inside. Where once she had tried to relieve herself of a cruel, sad existence, now Marlie was glad to make it through each day. A suicide attempt had the tendency to make one better at living.

"I'm gonna go get some flowers and candy for him," announced Shane then, a very unhappy look plastered on his face as he made his way out of the dining room, where everyone had gathered to discuss the situation that was Randall. "Look at this folks! We're back in fantasy land!" He glared at Marlie as he passed her, causing an unhappy expression to flit across Daryl's face.

But Hershel stepped in, pointing a stern finger at Shane. "You know, we haven't even dealt with what you did to my barn yet?"

The other man paused and spun around.

"I'm gonna make this clear once and for all: This is _my_ farm. Now I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor and keep your mouth shut."

While nobody clapped and cheered for Hershel's stern and much-needed approach to Shane, it was clear that several members of the discussion circle wanted to. Or at least, wanted to smile about it.

And that's what Marlie did. Just a small grin that she wiped away when Daryl glanced over at her with a cocked brow. She just shrugged, mentally kicking Shane out the door, because he really deserved to be kicked. And slapped. Slapping always seemed to knock sense into people, as Marlie had found out with Daryl.

When Shane stormed out of the house, taking care to push the outside screen door hard enough to smack against the house, Rick sighed. "Look, we're not gonna do anything about it today." He made eye contact with everyone to further engrave his statement. "Let's just cool off."

It was the signal for everyone who wanted to, to leave.

Carol walked in front of Daryl, pausing to look at him with a gentleness in her eyes, but the hunter grimaced and hurried away from her, taking Marlie's hand and dragging her along.

She half-smiled apologetically at Carol as she left. Obviously, the older woman and Daryl still hadn't worked things out.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

The next day, it was decided by Rick to drive the new kid, Randall, out about eighteen miles down the country road. Shane came along, too.

Everyone was really starting to get used having members of the group leaving and coming back and leaving again.

Lori came looking for Marlie later on. The younger woman was with Daryl at the hunter's own little camp sight away from everyone else. Marlie had moved in with him, partly because she had found herself in love with the man, and partly because she needed to keep an eye on him. The last thing she wanted or needed was for him to run off.

"Marlie? Marlie, I need your help."

She had been cleaning her blade and assisting Daryl in smoothing out the feathers on his crossbow bolts when Lori called out for her. Marlie stood up, worried as to why the deputy's wife would suddenly require her assistance. "What's wrong?"

"It's Beth. She…I think she…"

"Well, spit it out," asserted Daryl, eyeing the two women beside him, arrow in his hands.

Lori just eyes Daryl impatiently. "She wants to kill herself."

Marlie blinked. Alright, so maybe the last thing she needed _wasn't_ Daryl running off, but rather, someone coming to her about suicide. The one thing she hated most about herself.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about it and I'm not saying that you have to, but you know more about it than any of us. Please," she added, practically begging.

With raised brows, Marlie looked down at her feet and shook her head, saying, "Fine." She turned to Daryl, who gave her a warm look before nodding for her to join Lori.

"Go do your thing," he said as he resumed his work on his weapon.

Marlie hurried after Lori then, towards the house.

"Maggie's talkin' to her now, but I was hoping you'd have a word with her next."

"Yeah, sure. What did she do? I mean, how was she going to do it?" Marlie asked, sitting at the dining table with Lori beside her.

"She took a knife off the food tray I brought to her."

Marlie, with her arms out in front of her on the table, rubbed her scars quietly, remembering. God, how she hated her memories. When a hand suddenly appeared on her own, the younger woman stopped her fidgeting.

"Thank you, Marlie, for doing this. If anyone can help her, it's you and Maggie." She smiled comfortingly at her.

Oddly enough, the smile worked and Marlie did feel a little better. Maybe she wouldn't have to explain her own suicide attempt, but would just have to convince Beth that life was worth living after all.

_Ten minutes later_

"Doctor's found me before it was too late and here I am, alive and with the scars to prove it." Well, okay. So Marlie had ended up having to explain, in detail, what had happened to herself. But Beth was a hard soul to convince that suicide wasn't the answer.

The light-haired woman listened with moderate interest and once the story was finished, asked, "Why haven't you tried again?"

Marlie tilted her head and frowned. That was a good question.

"This isn't a world that anyone should have to live in, so why haven't you opted out?"

"Because. I found things worth living for."

"Like Daryl?"

She nodded.

Beth's head hung lowly. "Jimmy doesn't mean to me what Daryl means to you."

"Why do you say that?"

With a shrug, she said, "We haven't been together that long. We're not in love. We're not going to ever get married. We—"

"Woah, woah, woah," interrupted Marlie, shaking her head as she scooted closer to Beth on her bed. "So you're saying that just because you guys haven't known each other long means you can't love each other? I've only known Daryl for, like, less than a few months and while we're not perfect, we still care about each other."

"Do you love him?"

Marlie inhaled deeply before replying, "Yes. I do." Officially, Beth was now the first person to be told that. She deserved a metal. "But that doesn't matter."

"How can it not?"

"Because, you and Jimmy have a future. It may be scary and unknown, but you still have one. Would you really be willing to give that up? Life's hard, Beth, but it's hard for everyone. You have to be strong and—"

"I've been strong since this whole shit-storm started."

Marlie blinked. She'd never heard Beth curse before.

"My dad made sure of it, saying that there'd be a cure and my mom would be fine and we'd be a family again. But that's never gonna happen now, so there's really nothing keeping me here." Her voice was quiet, lifeless, completely devoid of energy as she sat there in bed, staring at her hands in her lap.

In some ways, Beth was right, Marlie knew. She'd known it all along. One bullet to the head, one cut of the wrist would be all it took to end pain, suffering, fear, everything. But it would also be the end to everything good that happened on occasion, every smile that revealed itself once in a while, every laugh, every positive thing that still awaited them in the future. The bad outweighed the good by a long shot, but because there was still good, there was still hope. And destroying that was worse than the act of suicide itself.

Marlie crawled up to the bed's headboard and explained this to Beth, who sat quietly beside her, listening as the woman spoke about things that she could still look forward to. Some of Marlie's words sunk in; others flew in one ear and out the other. It was impossible to make the decision for someone so ready to take her own life, but it helped to try and push her in the right direction.

After nearly an hour of talking and exchanging opinions about the world, Marlie realized that she had said all that she could to Beth. Patting her knee kindly, Marlie left her there, to think about everything and to decide for herself what to do about her life.

"Marlie?"

She looked over at Lori, who was with Andrea and Maggie in the kitchen.

"How'd it go?" Andrea asked.

"I think she really wants to do it. She reminded me of me when I tried."

Maggie shook her head angrily. "I'm goin' to talk to her again."

Nobody stopped her, but instead listened as she slammed the bedroom door closed. The shouting began less than a minute later. It continued for a while, making Marlie uncomfortable. The whole thing made her uncomfortable. Suicide was a touchy subject for her. For everyone.

"This could have been handled better," announced Andrea a short while later.

"How so?" Lori asked, nibbling on a cucumber slice.

"You shouldn't have taken the knife away."

Marlie looked up her feet, which she'd been staring at. "Andrea."

"What, Marlie?" the blonde growled unhappily. She looked at Lori. "You were wrong. She has to choose to live on her own. She has to find her own reasons, not be convinced by some…veteran of suicide."

"Excuse me?" Marlie stood up straight. Suddenly, the truce between her and Andrea was melting away.

"Andrea! Enough."

Marlie cleared her throat awkwardly, growing very uncomfortable about the conversation, especially now that Andrea had become a total bitch before her eyes. "I'm gonna go, um, clean something." She glared daggers at Andrea on the way out.

Lori was unhappy that Marlie felt the need to get out of the kitchen. She sent a disappointed look in Andrea's direction before saying to Marlie, "I'll find you if we need anything more, okay? Thanks again, Marlie."

She nodded before leaving the house. Once she was out of sight of the two women, Marlie stopped, standing amidst the green grass of the ranch, and cried. She wished she had her black, fingerless gloves to hide her wrists, because she figured everyone would be looking at them after they realized Beth's situation. She felt exposed, not only because of her bare wrists, but also because she was out in the middle of the field where anyone could see her sobbing.

Luckily, only Carol caught sight of the woman, who had crouched down to make herself small.

"Marlie?" the older woman called out.

Sniffling quickly and wiping her face, Marlie stood up and smiled hollowly at Carol. "Hey."

"Are you alright? What happened?" She hurried over to her with a confused, concerned expression.

"Nothing. I'm just having a bad day, I guess." It wasn't completely a lie. Her day had gone downhill since having to chat with Beth.

Carol's brows furrowed. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, placing a warm hand on Marlie's shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm fine." She couldn't tell her about Beth just yet. It seemed that that would be a secret for as long as Beth and Maggie decided it would be. "But since you're here, I just want to apologize for Daryl's behavior."

Carol smiled warmly and glanced at the grass. "You don't have to apologize for him. He should be able to do that himself."

"I know he should, but I'm still sorry. You don't deserve how he treats you. If it'll help, then I'll have a word with him later."

"No, don't worry about it. I think your speech in the RV last night did him some good."

Marlie snorted. "I hope so." Already, her tears had dried away in the sun and she was feeling better in the fresh air. She wondered if she should return to the house, to see if anything had changed or if Lori and Andrea were still disputing in the kitchen. Marlie decided that was probably best. "I should probably be getting back," she said to Carol, pointing a thumb behind her.

"Okay. Is Beth alright?"

"Yeah, she's good. Lori just might need me to help with chores." Marlie thanked the gods that Carol didn't offer to come along, not that her finding out about Beth would be so terrible, but it would complicate things.

Carol nodded. "I have a few things to take care of, too. Feel better," she added, kindly squeezing Marlie's shoulder before the two went their separate ways.

Marlie's timing back at the house was impeccable. Just as she was heading up the porch steps, Lori burst out, her face showing immediate relief that Marlie was so close. "What happened?" Marlie asked, suspecting something terrible as she quickly followed Lori to Beth's room.

Maggie was already there, banging on room's bathroom door.

"Where's Beth?" Lori asked, hurrying into the room.

"She's in there," Maggie informed, jiggling the bathroom handle. "I heard glass!"

"Shit," Marlie mumbled, approaching the door. "Beth, come on. Don't do this! What about all we talked about earlier?"

From behind the door, there was a shuffling of feet, sounds of glass, and Beth crying.

Marlie's mind flashed to the night at the hospital, clutching tightly onto the scalpel that the nurses had carelessly left in an unlocked drawer. Pressing the cold steel against her wrists had felt good, but Marlie had been terrified. There hadn't been anyone there to stop her, unlike Beth, who had friends and family knocking on the door, begging her to stop. Marlie could only imagine how the girl must be feeling. Rushed, confused, scared, probably.

"Beth?" called Maggie, "You alright? Don't do this, Beth, don't do this." She was trying to remain calm and strong, but her voice was faltering and there were terrified tears in her eyes.

Lori was frantic. "I left her with Andrea."

That was the last straw for Marlie. Even if Andrea was right in some obscure way, leaving a suicidal woman to her own devices was not right. "Where's the key?" Marlie asked, seeing a keyhole in the door.

"I don't know," Maggie replied. "Beth, please, open the door! I'm not mad, Beth, I'm not mad!"

Marlie remembered seeing a crowbar somewhere in the room, having caught a glimpse of it the last time she was there. She sprang into action and quickly located it in the far corner of the room. Weaseling between Lori and Maggie, Marlie prepared to make her assault when Lori grabbed her hand.

"I'll do it," she asserted, taking the heavy metal away from Marlie. "Step back." Then she jabbed one end of the bar between the door and the frame and pull the lever back strongly. The door broke open a few seconds later, revealing Beth standing before a destroyed mirror, clutching her left wrist as she turned around.

Her face was red from crying and there were steady streams of tears caressing her cheek. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

Maggie hurried in and wrapped her arms around her sister, kissing the top of her head and adding pressure to her bleeding wrist as they exited the bathroom.

Marlie felt sick to her stomach, but something dawned on her. Maybe Andrea wasn't completely wrong about her statement on having Beth find her own reasons to live. Beth had tried to die, but in the end, it seemed that the only way to prove to herself that she actually wanted to live, was to bring herself close to death.

When Hershel was told what had happened, he was more worried than angry, just as a father should be. He was left alone with Beth, to stitch her wrist and be by her side.

Marlie, while told to leave the room to let Hershel have some time alone with his daughter, remained close by, choosing to sit at the dining room table and wait until she could see Beth. She wasn't mad at her. Andrea was right; she'd chosen to live. It didn't make the means of figuring that out any better, but Beth was alive and that was all that matter.

Even after Hershel came out to tell Marlie that Beth was resting and didn't need visitors at the moment, Marlie remained.

Daryl found his place by her side some time later after searching for her. He gently took her hands and brushed his thumb over the faint pink lines that symbolized the start of a new beginning for Marlie. "You did good."

"I didn't keep her from cutting herself."

"But you certainly tried. Hell, you might have even been the reason that she stopped."

Marlie thought about that before sighing. Maybe Daryl was right, or maybe Beth found her own reasons.

The hunter leaned over to her then and kissed her temple before bringing her left wrist to his lips and kissing that, too. "You did good, Marlie," he repeated quietly.

* * *

><p>Some cute, touchy moments with Marlie Daryl! So, reviews? PLEASE? Now I'm only behind by one episode! YAY! You know, when I watched the episode "18 Miles Out", I was like, "Wow, this episode is perfect for Marlie!". Sometimes I'm amazed at how much she'd work in the series, for real. It's uncanny.<p>

Anyway, comment, review, smite me with your rage for not updating sooner, etc! :D


End file.
